


A Lady Needn't Fear When You Are Near

by xxJillianElizabethxx



Category: Mary Poppins (1964), Mary Poppins - All Media Types, Mary Poppins - P. L. Travers, Mary Poppins - Sherman/Stiles/Drew/Fellowes
Genre: F/M, Lots of OC's, Mary Poppins - Freeform, the inner workings of my twisted mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxJillianElizabethxx/pseuds/xxJillianElizabethxx
Summary: What secrets lie behind the mystery that is Miss Mary Poppins. Is she really "practically perfect in every way" - her dear friend Bert knows the answers.





	1. It All Comes Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter fic I've worked on in a while, and it's also the furthest I've ever gotten in one. Please be patient with my sporadic updates - I'm an overwhelmed college student!
> 
> I also apologize in advance for how I start this story, but it makes sense as a good place to begin once we get deeper into the plot.

_ 20 December, 1890 _

_ "Oh, Daddy!" the 4-year-old girl squeals at the new doll her father just bought for her "She's beautiful!" _

_ The older man smiles down at his daughter. "Of course she is, my little parrot, she looks just like you." _

_ And he was right. The dolls has curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, and flawless porcelain skin, both in color and material. _

_ The father and daughter proceed to walk until reaching their rather large house, surrounded by an array of beautiful foliage. Of course, not that one could tell, as the whole world seemed to be grey-scaled on this dreary London day. _

_ "Come along inside, sweetheart, before you catch your death out here." _

_"Of course, Daddy." The girl runs ahead of her father and through the front door, clutching her doll to her chest, as if already feeling a motherly instinct to protect her child._  

_ The mother greets the two as they return home, as the father had given all the servants today off. _

_ "Hello, mum!" _

_ "Oh, you two are back, already?" the little girl's mother replies, a slight joke to her tone. _

_ The father, called James, goes over to his wife. She leans in to give him a quick kiss, but instead, he pulls her into his arms and kisses her with more love than either of them can recall having. _

_ "Oh, Adelaide. My sweet, sweet, Adelaide." He draws out her name, looking deep into her eyes for a moment, before she averts her gaze to the floor. _

_ "How are you feeling, James?" she replies in just above a whisper, hoping to hide the fear and concern in her voice. She still can't bring herself to meet his eyes. He gently places a hand under her chin and forces his lips to hers once more. _

_ "I am going to rest my head." And he kisses his wife one more time, before looking down at the 11-month-old in her arms. _

_ "Your mum is a very brave woman, Angel." _

_"As is your father." Adelaide quickly adds, thinking back to all their happy memories._  

_James offers her a smile, before pressing a soft kiss to his youngest daughter's head._  

_ At this point a much older girl, the eldest of the three sisters, walks in. _

_"Joy, Joy, look!" The four-year-old exclaims running over to her sister with the doll in front of her._  

_ "Oh, she's beautiful." Joy responds. At only 12, she had already developed a rather motherly attitude. "What do you call her?" _

_The younger girl cradles the doll, copying the way her mother is holding her baby sister. She looks closely at the doll's porcelain face before replying "she's Clara" with a smile._  

_ "Oh, that's just perfect!" Joy says, smiling at her sister before catching her father's eyes. She is the eldest and, thus, has a slight inkling as to what is going on, especially as her father kneels down to be eye-level with her. Knowingly, Joy sends her sister away with a polite flick of her wrist. _

_ "Joy," he begins and the girl before him almost breaks down crying. "please don't cry, darling." _

_ He offers her a weak smile. "You are so strong and I know you will take great care of your mother and your sisters." _

_ She nods and James places a light kiss to her hairline. _

_ "I love you, so much, Joy, even if you like spending time with mum better." At this, the girl jumps into her father's arms, finally letting her tears spill over her eyes, but smiling at her father's comment, nonetheless. _

_ He hugs her close to his chest. _

_ "No sorrows, my darling, you'll always be in my heart." _

_"I'll always keep you there as well." the girl chokes out in response._  

_ James smiles a wide, yet melancholy, grin at her before standing up. _

_ "I'm off to bed; au revoir, my loves." _

_ He goes to return to his middle daughter who is playing with her new doll in the adjacent sitting room. _

_ "Daddy, what does 'au revoir' mean?" _

_ He smiles. She did always have impeccable hearing, especially for a 4-year-old. _

  _"It means 'until we meet again' my curious little parrot."_  

_ He begins to laugh as his daughter recited this new phrase with a different tone of amazement in her voice each time the words leave her tiny mouth, knowing she is committing the phrase to memory, as she follows him to his bedroom. After all, her curiosity for language and her need to consistently repeat the new things she learns is the reason James has called her "his little parrot" ever since she learned to speak. _

_ James is lies down on his bed, not bothering to change - he is far too tired to do so. His daughter (arguably his favorite of the three, though he would never outwardly admit that) is curled up beside him. _

_ "Sweetheart, look at me." _

_"Yes, Daddy?"_  

_ "Mary, my little parrot... I love you more than the world." He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as she replies "I love you too, Daddy! I always will" _

_ She snuggles closer to her father, seeing him smile as he exhales. At this point she would normally try to fall asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling. _

_But she can't feel it._  

_ That was when she notices her mother crying in the doorway. _

_ "Daddy?" _

"Mary Poppins!"

"Oh sir, I am terribly sorry. Do forgive me." Mary says to the man in front of her.

He smiles back "Of course, no worries. You are hired - effective immediately. My daughter I spoke of is upstairs, first door on the left."

"Thank you, sir." Mary starts ascending the stairs, but pauses half-way up. 

"I shall see her straight away, sir. Her name was Clara, did you say?"

The man nods. 

Her practically perfect composure slips for the second time that morning, before inhaling sharply and recollecting herself, walking up to the girl's bedroom.

"For once," the nanny begins to herself "this will not be easy."


	2. It Must Be Believed To Be Seen

_ 5 July 1916 _

“Good morning, child.” Mary says, waking up the 13-year-old. Naturally, Mary was already wide awake and prepared for the day.

Her newest charge, a girl by the name of Clara, ignores the nanny’s request, and remains in bed, eyes shut tightly.

The girl is an only child - and a spoilt one at that! Of course, this was nothing Mary Poppins hadn't handled before. However, this assignment was proving much harder than any of her previous ones.   
  
It brought back too many memories; this girl reminded Mary very much of herself growing up.

Mary tries again to wake the girl.

A muffled groan comes in response as the girls rolls over in bed.

This prompts Mary to open the curtains of the bedroom as wide as she can.

“I am not a farmer, why must I be up at the crack of dawn?”

Mary was beginning to lose her patience for this girl, and she hadn’t even been in the house for 24 hours.

“I would hardly call half-ten ‘the crack of dawn.' You’re father is already at work, and I have a very special day planned for us today.”

The girl sits up in bed and rubs her eyes, trying to adjust to the light of the room. The nanny smiles to herself, proud of herself for winning the argument.

“And what might that be, Mary Poppins”

“We are going for a walk in the park.”

“How exciting.” Clara responds sarcastically, falling back into her pillow. Or at least, that was her intention.

The girl lets out an unnecessarily piercing scream as she bangs her head on the headboard.

“Please, dear, I am here because your father believes you need someone to look after you when he is not around.” Mary pauses, trying to refrain on adding her own thoughts to that statement. “Besides, if we are going to be spending time together, you are going to have to do things my way. And that starts with some fresh  air.”

...

"Come along now, Clara, spit spot" The girl was trailing behind Mary, dragging her feet along the pavement, obviously trying to spite Mary for her idea of spending a day in the park.

"Do not drag your feet,child. You'll ruin your shoes."   
  
"Why does it matter? Daddy can always just buy me a new pair."   
  
Mary shoots Clara an icy glare and the girl stops. Though whether it is to actually appease her nanny or because something else catches her eye is debatable.   
  
"Clara, please be careful." Mary says, slightly frustrated, as the girl runs by her.   
  
Mary would never chase a charge, though her pace does quicken as the girl distances herself from her caretaker.   
  
It doesn't matter, really, for Mary knows what has captured the girl's attention.   
  
Mary smiles when she sees the man kneeling on the pavement, adjacent to Clara.   
  
"I'd know that silhouette anywhere." she laughs at the cheesy line he uses every time they run into each other in this fashion.   
  
"Hello, Bert"   
  
"An' good day t' you, Mary Poppins."   
  
Clara rolls her eyes at the two adults before her.   
  
“Clara!” Mary reprimands, trying not to lose her temper.   
  
"Lovely to see you again, Bert." She extends her hand to the man kneeling before her.   
  
Bert takes her hand and brushes his lips to her knuckles.   
  
"Pleasure's all mine, Mary Poppins - it’s been far too long.”

“Nearly 4 years, if I recall correctly.”

Bert flushes slightly “It’s been six."

Mary feels a little colour enter her cheeks as well. “Has it? Well I am terribly sorry then.” But she knew it was six.   
  
Clara makes a face of disgust at the exchange. "If you two are going to kiss, can you just get it over with already.?”

"Clara, do be careful not to ruin your dress.” Mary replies, a beat after remembering her charge is still beside her, ignoring the child’s comment.

The girl impatiently stares back at the nanny.   
  
"This is my  _ friend _ , Bert. Bert, this is Clara"   
  
Bert tries to hide the cringe in his face with her accent on the word "friend" and goes to shake hands with Clara.   
  
"Why would I touch someone like you!" the 13-year-old responds, crossing her arms across her chest, genuinely offended by the gesture.   
  
"You are filthy and obviously poor. You are of the exact people that make people like my father ashamed to live in London."   


As rude as this girl is being to her dearest friend, Mary can’t help but smile at the comment. However, she knows it is not her place to say  anything, not that she feels like bringing up her own first encounter with Bert in this park.

She also picks up on the girl’s sass and is suddenly nostalgic by the thoughts of her own teen years.

At the same time, Bert scoffs and removes his cap, pressing it to his chest. "That 'urt, missy. You should be careful who ya speak to with that attitude."   
  
The little girl sticks her nose in the air, eyeing the man before her.   
  
Bert takes this as a good opportunity to stand and walks over to Mary. She takes a step away from him.   
  
"I'm also a chimney sweep y'know."   
  
"So?" Clara puts her hands on her hips, now having to look up at the man towering over her.   
  
"So?" Bert mocks her, resting his hands on his hips as well. "'Asn't anyone ever told you it's good luck to shake hands with a sweep."

“What an awful tradition.”

“What an awful attitude.”

“Why should I shake hands with a stranger, anyway.”

“If I am such a stranger, then why should you look down on me."

"Because she dragged me here!" Clara snaps, pointing to Mary Poppins.   
  
Mary snaps out of her thought process and lets out an all too audible sigh. "If you two children are done, we have errands to run."

She takes Clara's hand.  Unfortunately for Mary, Clara takes this a sign to change her attitude.

"Did you draw these, Bert?"   
  
"Yes I did" Bert says, adjusting his bow-tie in satisfaction.   
  
"Oh don't be _ too _ modest now, Bert." Mary rolls her eyes. But eventually gives in to Bert's conspiring stare.   
  
"Oh, all right.” she turns back to her charge. “How would you like to go on an adventure."   
  
That catches the girl's attention, but not quite in the way Mary thought.   
  
"An adventure in London? How exciting." She more sarcastic - something else she has in common with a young Mary Poppins.   
  
Bert bends down to be eye level with the girl again.   
  
"Pick one of these 'ere pictures."

“Why?” the girl responds all too defiantly.

Bert chuckles at her stubbornness. “Just pick your favourite."   
  
"That one, with the castle because that’s where a princess would live!"   
  
"Oh how fitting" Mary mumbles, earning her a less than giddy look from Bert.   
  
"What was that? I thought practically perfect people are never to mumble!" Bert says in as posh an accent as he can manage. He loved any opportunity he got where he could poke fun at Mary's "practically perfect" exterior.   
  
Mary glares down at her friend who is still level with her charge. "Well I haven't been feeling myself lately." the nanny snaps, showing more honesty than she would have liked. But it does make Bert realize he's crossed a line. He had been sensing she was a bit off today.   
  
However, before he can apologize, Mary regains her composure and looks to her charge..   
  
"Would you like to go there, then, Clara?" Mary asks, motioning to the picture.   
  
Clara begins jumping with excitement. "Oh very much so! But how?"   
  
Bert and Mary share a glance before Bert suggests that "anything can happen when you're with Mary Poppins."

"Take my hand, Clara." Mary says, grasping the girl's hand back in her own, already holding Bert's.   
  
"Funny, I don't recall that happening" Mary thinks to herself.   
  
Before Clara can even process what is happening, the trio stands in the garden at the foot of a castle.   
  
Looking down, Clara sees she is now wearing a pink frilly dress with white bows along the waist, matching patent leather shoes and, of course, a tiara fit for a princess.   
  
"Wow, this place is incredible!" Clara says in awe. "But, how?"   
  
Bert smiles down at her. "Didn't you 'ear what I just said - you must really learn to listen, missy."   
  
He flattens non-existent wrinkles out of his purple waistcoat and matching trousers as he says this.   
  
Mary smiles at him as she looks down at her own bright yellow sundress. Nothing too fancy, but beautifully poetic at how opposite their personalities appear to be.   
  
"Mary Poppins - this is wonderful!" The little girl runs over to her nanny and wraps her arms around her, catching Mary off guard.

Bert can’t help but laugh at the scene, and does nothing to hide his smirk from his friend.   
  
"Oh, you think this is funny now, do you?” Mary scolds Bert’s immaturity.

“Off please, child."   
  
Clara obeys, but stays smiling.   
  
"Thank you." she says, smiling up to Mary, politely. That's a first.   
  
Suddenly a butterfly flutters by and Clara runs off chasing it.   
  
"Do be careful not to hurt yourself, or smudge the picture!" Mary yells as the girl runs off.   
  
"Oh, she'll be fine, Mary. What could possibly 'appen to her?"   
  
Mary sighs; she knows Bert's right. After all, he did create this place.   
  
"Now, why don't we go inside and have some tea."   
  
Mary rolls her eyes at the suggestion. "Of course he did." she thinks. “Always one for surprises.”

Mary Poppins, however, was not one for surprises, but she can make an exception; today is a special day.  
  
Surely enough, the two friends walk inside and there is already a table set for two. Bert pulls out one of the chairs, motioning her to sit. Once she does, he walks into the adjacent kitchen.   
  
"Red or white" he asks reentering the room.   
  
She smirks to herself. "Rosé." She says defiantly (thinking he is still in the other room), but has to laugh when she notices him already pouring the pink wine into her glass.   
  
"If you already knew what I would say, then why would you ask."   
  
Bert laughs as he pours into his own glass and sits down across from her. "Just thought I'd see your reaction."   
  
"You are so childish, sometimes."   
  
"Only sometimes?" Bert feigns offense at the comment.   
  
Mary laughs at him. Not her usual light-hearted giggle though. No, this was a genuine laugh that makes Bert smile. His heart flutter as he tries to remember the last time he heard that laugh.

“Everything all right, Bert?”   
  
Suddenly, Bert feels a tension he didn't know was there ease. “Er, yes, of course, Mary.”

He knows she is not buying it, but neither of them really care. They're both just happy to be together after so many years apart.   
  
A waiter brings their food over, putting an idea in Mary’s head. She decides to whisper something to the servant before he walks off. Bert looks at her questioningly, but she just shrugs and begins eating.   
  
After a few moments pass without a word being said, it is Mary who decides to break the silence.   
  
"So... purple?" She asks with a giggle, using her fork to motion to her friend's ensemble.   
  
Bert blushes a little bit at the question. "It’s your favourite colour. I figured you’d like it."   
  
Mary smiles across at him. Him, her best friends for nearly 16 years, she suddenly doesn't know how to act around. Perhaps, it is not as sudden a reaction as she is telling herself, but she doesn't dwell on that thought.   
  
“Well, of course I love it. The colour suits you very well.” She reaches across the table to place her hand on Bert’s.

Suddenly, he tenses up and feels his heartbeat quicken.

“Not like anything could ever look bad on you.” Mary adds, finishing off her wine in an attempt to hide her blush.

"And the yellow?"

Bert's own cheeks darken. "Oh, c'mon Mary, you know that was your doing, not mine." he suggests.   
  
Unfortunately for him, they both know he's lying.   
  
"Bert..."   
  
He mumbles something that Mary can't quite make out.   
  
"Oh, do speak up!" Mary says, too much like how she would address one of her charges after they've misbehaved.   
  
"Sorry." the nanny says awkwardly.   
  
"It's mine." Bert says, suddenly finding his lap much more interesting than his dinner.   
  
"Your what?" Mary asks, genuinely not understanding what he is referring to. But her face softens as she realises.   
  
Bert remains in the same position, not seeing Mary rise from her seat and walk over to him.   
  
That is until he feels her arms twining around his neck.   
  
Bert feels chills creep up his spine as she presses her cheek to his.   
  
"You look positively ravishing." Bert suddenly forgets how to breath, the only thing on his mind is the sensation of this woman's breath against his ear.

“As do you.” He manages to choke out.   
  
"I really do love this colour on you, Bert."   
  
Bert laughs nervously.   
  
"Why is she suddenly acting this way. This is not like her at all." Bert’s mind races with confusion, pleasure, and elation.

_ Pleasure _ . That thought made him extremely uncomfortable in a very, er, obvious way.   
  
Bert is about ready to stand up when their waiter comes in.   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I disturbing something." The servants says apologetically as Mary puts her arms behind her back and Bert practically jumps out of his chair and instinctively folds his hands in front of himself.   
  
"Nothing at all." The friends say in unison.   
  
They try to remain serious, but neither can help laughing at the whole situation. Mary takes the covered plate from the waiter before dismissing him.   
  
Bert walks over to her.   
  
"What's on the plate?"   
  
Mary smiles, uncovering a slice of gingerbread cake.   
  
Bert rolls his eyes. "You and your gingerbread obsession."   
  
Mary gives him a gentle smack on the arm.   
  
"Mind yourself, Bert. Besides, you and I both know who made me love it so much."   
  
Bert smiles his goofy grin. "Of course." Bert agrees, eyeing the cake in a way that leads Mary to pull the plate away from him.   
  
"Oh, c'mon, Mary, why you gotta play games with me?" Bert pleads, widening his brown eyes.   
  
Of course she has to give into that face.   
  
"Oh all right." She resigns, setting the dessert down onto the table, each taking their seats and going in for a bite at the same time.   
  
Once finished, Bert offers his hand to Mary and begins twirling her around the room. He doesn’t know what drives him to make such a gesture, but goes with it. Besides, he is rather enjoying how close he is to Mary at the moment.   
  
"How childish of you, Bert!" Mary exclaims, slightly fluster at his bold expression.   
  
Bert smiles down at her. "It’s not like you need music to dance."   
  
Suddenly both of them are standing still in the middle of the room, merely inches from each other. Bert presses his forehead to Mary's as her eyelids flutter shut.   
  
But the second they do, Mary pushes away from Bert, her eyes wider than he's ever seen.

Reality sinks back in and she regains her composure. The woman notices the hurt expression on her friend’s face and takes Bert’s hands in her own.   
  
"Happy Birthday, Bert." Mary nods as she takes a step away from him.   
  
_ Fuck it _ . Bert reaches forward, grabs Mary by the waist, and plants a kiss on on her lips.   
  
Mary gasps and, once she pulls away from her friend, slaps him hard across the face and storms out.   
  
"It most certainly is now, Mary Poppins." Bert places his hand to the red mark already prominent on his left cheek. "It most certainly is."


	3. Brick By Boring Brick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say I am currently re-editting the first eight chapters of this fic, but didn't want that to stall me updating it, so this story will be evolving from how it presently is. However, this chapter is the one which I am least satisfied with at the moment, so please excuse the awkwardness of it. Thanks for reading lovies <3

“Aw, c’mon Mary!” Bert calls after the woman, storming out of the castle.

“Cor, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

That does it.

“You didn’t mean to upset me?” Mary responds, a little too calmly, turning around to face Bert.

“You knew full well how I would react and you just-”

“Mary I know, I-”

“Do not interrupt a woman when she is speaking, Bert. Especially when that woman is me, thank you very much.” She finally snaps.

Bert takes a step back. Though he wouldn’t admit it, there was only one other time he could recall Mary snapping like this, and he hated to think that he caused his best friend to be full of so much hurt and anger.

20 December 1900

“Mary, love, are you all right?” Bert says, walking into the girl’s room.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you all back until late.” She says, clearly trying to cover the fact she had been crying.

And Bert knows why.

He goes over to sit next to her on the bed and pulls her into a tight hug. Mary breaks down for what seems like the hundredth time that night.

“Well, we got home early. Do you want to talk?”

“What’s the point?” Mary reasons between sobs.

“If you don’t want to that’s fine,” Bert places a gentle kiss in her hair. “But know that I am always here for you. I promised that the day we met.”

“And it was a piecrust promise”

“A what?”

Mary pulls out of the embrace to look Bert in the eyes. “A piecrust promise: easily made, easily broken.” She chokes out.

“Mary, I don’t understand?”

The girl in question stands and begins pacing in front of Bert.

“See, it’s like a piecrust. When I was younger and I got worked up over something, my mum would tell me to just try to use metaphors and similes; comparing how I was feeling to something physical helped me understand and overcome that which I was feeling.”

As sad as he was to see his best friend fighting back pain, Bert couldn’t help but smile at this reasoning. And she is looking a bit more composed now.

“So it was a piecrust promise because it was easily made, but it also can be very easily broken.”

Tears began to flood over Mary’s eyes once more.

“You promised me that you would be there for me, but you can’t always be there.”

She begins breathing heavily, falling to the ground to support herself.

“And he knew when he said it that he wouldn’t be.”

Bert was completely lost.

“Mary…” he reaches out to touch her, but she bats his hand away.

“No: it was a lie and he knew it.”

Suddenly a rage like Bert’s never seen flashes in Mary’s eyes. He decided to just let her rant.

“When Angel was born, I was outside of the room. I- I heard them talking and…”

Tears were flowing freely down her face, staining her porcelain complexion.

“He promised me, Bert. He promised me he would always watch over me, and he knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep.”

Bert sat silently, still confused as ever.

“Father knew he was dying, within the year nonetheless, but he still promised my mum that he would look after me. It was a piecrust promise - one he knew he couldn’t keep. It shouldn’t matter if he didn’t know I was listening, he shouldn’t have said something he couldn’t uphold. He said he would look after me, but he knew he was going to leave me. And it made it that much harder to move on once he did. I could hardly function after my father died, I was so upset. But not only because I had lost him, no, I was mostly upset, angry even, that he had left with a broken promise.”

Mary curls up into a ball on the floor, as if to protect herself from her sorrows.

Bert takes the opportunity to stand up and go over to her, pulling his friend back into his embrace.

“Shh.. It’s all right, Mary.”

“No it’s not.” comes her response, barely audible. “And he left me with that awful man. If he truly wanted to look after me, he would have sent me a guardian angel once he passed. But no. I get stuck with the epitome of evil.”

Bert looks down at the girl in his arms. “That’s a little strong don’tcha think.”

Mary stares daggers back at him.

“That man made my life hell - I believe that’s reason enough to call him evil. Bert, you know what that man did to me, how he treated me, what he made me think about, and how he made me feel, and what I almost did because of him, and what I did do.”

Her last statement hangs in the air. They both know what she means, but neither dares speak of such events.

Mary presses on. “Do not dare make me feel sorry for what I say of him. He deserves to rot in the depths of hell.”

“Try telling that to your mother.” Bert adds under his breath. This snaps something new, and quite frightening actually, in Mary.

“She’s probably there already. ‘Til death do us part’ and wanting to be buried with him. The nerve of that woman! I lost faith in her the day she put her wedding band on my father’s headstone because she had a new one to place on her finger. To think she introduced that man as my ‘father’. My father was a wonderful man who died too young, with a broken promise to his little parrot.”

Hot tears were stinging in Mary’s eyes still.

“My mother’s second ‘lover’ was no step-father: he deserves a much more disgusting title for the horrid things he’s done. He should be in prison, where people like him are called-”

Bert covers her mouth in an attempt to calm Mary down, knowing full well how this conversation affect her, and it is most certainly not the mindset Mary needs at the moment.

“It isn’t fair, Bert. That he lives when my father doesn’t. And it is not fair that my father was taken from me, only to be replaced by that wretched being. Taken from me when he promised he would always look after me. He couldn’t keep his word and, as much as I would like you to, you cannot either.”

“Believe what you must.” Bert reasons. “But I would not promise you something I could not keep.”

Mary raises her head to protest, but he continues.

“I promise you, Mary, no matter how far apart we are, no matter how long we go without seeing each other, you can always come to me with anything and I will be happy to oblige your requests. I care about you, honestly, and it pains me to see you like this. I never want to have to see you like this, and especially not at my doing. Listen to me. I’m sorry, love. I am sorry you feel this way and that you don’t trust me. Or can’t trust me, or whatever. However, I promise to never leave you. I don’t care what you think, I will keep that promise.”

A feeble “thank you.” is all Mary can muster, having expelled most of her energy crying through the last few hours.

“Did you even hear a word I said?” Mary snaps, realizing she no longer has Bert’s full attention. “No, obviously you did not.” Mary rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry, love.” Bert replies timidly (and also with a twinge of guilty) knowing he should have been listening to his friend after what he put her through.

For some reason, and Bert has an idea as to why, this phrase causes Mary’s glare to soften. But only for a moment, before she slaps him for the second time that afternoon and, yet again, storms away.

Though this time, she goes to sit with Clara. The girl is sitting under a nearby tree; Bert watches as she walks over.

“How are you, pet?” Mary inquires, standing next to the child.

“I am having a positively lovely day, Mary Poppins, thank you!”

“It is getting a little late, perhaps we should head home.”

Clara stands in protest. “But I don’t want to leave this place.”

“All right, then what do you want to do in the meantime.” Mary reasons, allowing herself to sit in the grass. “I don’t want you wandering too far off now.”

“Tell me a story, Mary Poppins.” The girl says as she sits back down.

“And what about, may I ask?” Mary questions. Looking down as her charge. She was glad to see her attitude improving already. Unfortunately, she new the father was going to be her real challenge.

Clara thinks for a moment as she looks around the picture before her eyes land upon the castle.

Mary smiles to herself and takes the hint. “Aren’t you a little old for fairytales?”

The smaller girl sticks her nose in the air. “One is never too old to hear a story that is the embodiment of childhood memories and innocence.”

That last word strikes Mary, but she brushes the feeling off. “Oh, all right, you. So, we have-”

“Once upon a time…” Clara offers with a cheeky grin.

“Once upon a time there was a King and Queen living in England and they were very happily married.”

“Did they have a prince or princess, too?” Clara cannot resist interjecting.

“Patience, child. Do not keep interrupting if you wish me to continue.”

Clara covers her mouth with her hand and nods to signal for Mary to continue.

“And yes, they have three princesses, actually.”

“When the first princess was born, mother and father adored her. But the father felt like he was not a good enough father to her, as he was frequently called away when she was little, so he wanted another child. And for years he wished he could have a daughter that he could be as good to as his wife was to their first daughter.”

“And as his daughter got older, he felt worried that she would become too accustomed to her lavish lifestyle and feared how she would be once she grew up.”

“Well, couldn’t she just marry wealthy.”

Mary looks back down at the younger girl.

Clara mouths a “sorry” as she apologetically nuzzles closer to the nanny. Normally, Mary would have asked the child to stop, but the affection was soothing her now. She was basically a mother figure to this girl, even if she’s known her for hardly a day.

“Well, she could have, but the King just wanted all his daughters to be happy, especially when it came to falling in love. He was a very caring man.”

“So, the King could not have been happier the day his second daughter was born; he was determined to care for her as he did not with his older daughter. However, the mother still only cared about the older princess and practically ignored her younger daughter, as she didn’t even really want a second child.”

Clara gapes “Oh how awful - oh I am sorry for interrupting again.”

“It’s all right.” Mary smiles.

“Then, the queen found out she was to have a third child and it was then she realized how awful it feels to be unloved be one of her daughters. So naturally she planned to make it up to herself by being overly attentive to her youngest, as though that is the only logical thing to do.”

Mary definitely slips out of her practically perfect composure as she says these last statements.

“Pardon, where was I?”

Clara decides to not comment on what just happened. “The third princess.”

“Oh, yes, so the third daughter was born and the mother showered her with praise as promised. Except another promise was made that day. The father promised to look after the second princess. However, by now, the father was very sick and knew he was dying. And less than a year after the youngest daughter was born, he passed, and could no longer protect the middle daughter.”

“Well did they get to live happily ever after, or not? What happens next” Clara questioned.

Although Mary knew the girl was old enough to know that everything didn’t work out, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the full story, especially not quickly enough to get Clara home at a reasonable hour. So she settles on a much abridged version.

“Well, the mother got remarried a few years after the father died and had another daughter whom she cherished with the new King. She died a few years later though. But the King was good to his two youngest daughters. The eldest of the four princesses found a prince of her own to marry, as did the third princess and they were married. The youngest found a prince as well, but they are still young. So I suppose it is happily ever after.”

“What about the second princess.” Mary hoped Clara wouldn’t have picked up on that.

“She, er, I suppose she did, in her own way.”

“Oh, all right.” Clara yawns, suddenly too tired to further inquire.

Mary chuckles. “I think we should be getting home.”

Mary stands up and dusts off her skirt. She sees Clara has half fallen asleep and decides to leave her for a moment.

“So how much did you hear?” Mary questions, not even looking up from herself yet.

Bert grins, not at all surprised she knew he was standing there. “I ‘eard the ‘ole thing.”

Mary turns to face him. Bert offers a smile gesturing her to come closer to him.

She just looks back at him with a glazed stare.

A moment of awkward silence passes before she shakes the feeling away and says “We should be off.”

Bert nods in agreeance.

“Come along now, Clara, take my hand.” The girl, hardly aware of her surroundings anymore stands up and does as instructed.

And just like that, the three stand in the park, just as they had that afternoon.

“Oh, Mary Poppins, could we do that again sometime?” Clara practically begs, suddenly filled with a second wind of energy.

Mary simply turns and begins walking to the girl’s home. Clara follows suit, but not before catching a glimpse of Bert winking at her. The little girl runs back and sticks out her hand to the man.

“For good luck.” She smiles up at him.

He shakes her tiny hand. “Glad you ‘ad a change in ‘eart, missy.”

Clara waves to Bert as she runs to catch up with her nanny.

“Do be careful, dear, you never know what can happen to you in this park.” Mary says once the girl is at her side again.

“Mary Poppins, today was so much fun!” The young girl exclaims on their walk back to her home.

“Well I am sorry for running off on you when we arrived, but I met this kitten - adorable little thing - and she could talk too! And she told me she belonged to the princess, and then she took me into the palace, and the dining room was huge - bigger than my house - and then we went to the gardens. Oh, Mary Poppins, they were so beautiful, with flowers of every color imaginable. I could spend the rest of my life there. And your story was just wonderful - so, so, lifelike and-”

“Do slow down, child.” Mary finally cuts the girl off. “It sounds like today was pretty eventful.”

“Oh it was!” Clara responds, her eyes widening. She no longer shows even the slightest trace of her former fatigue.

The two arrive at the girl’s front gate. “Well then you must be very tired. Once you finish your tea, I expect you in bed.”

“But Mary Poppins.” The girl whines as they walk in the door. “How could I possibly go to sleep after everything that has happened.”

The girl’s father comes over to greet his daughter.

“And what might that be.” The father questions.

“Mary Poppins took us inside one of those chalk pictures people do on the pavement in the park and-”

“Inside a chalk drawing?” The man interjects his daughter’s recounting of the day’s adventures as the three walk into the house.

“Mary Poppins, do explain what my daughter is going on about.”

“First of all, I would like to make one thing very clear.”

Her employer nods for Mary to continue.

“I never explain anything.”


End file.
